No One

Chapter Seven

There was not much hope in her mind, she did not believe the man would keep his word, that he would want to help her as he promised. She wondered why he would, what was in it for him, if anything. Apart from the silver coin he had given her, she had no money besides there was nothing of more value in that place than food, food was the only currency there, the one people lived for, traded for or just begged for or stole. There was not much hope for anyone in that place, the guards enjoyed offering lashing or beatings, they enjoyed rubbing salt into wounds, to hear people scream. She had been lucky so far, but her luck was running out, it had to be, nobody was as lucky as she was, not a single soul.

She went to bed, falling into it to try and rest while she cast aside the man's offer. Chances are he was lying, a guard in disguise trying to see who would escape and who would stay but the one question in her mind was about that death. 'Would it be better than serving the sentence?'. The answer was yes, it most definitely was, whether she lived, or she died, it was an end, a good end and there was freedom in it, her heart and soul would be set free from the curse that had lay waste on her and her family.

The gods had turned their backs, but she was not going to let it end there, she did not need the gods, she needed the man to help her escape, if he was true to his word. She did not stay awake waiting, in case it was a lie, so she would have one chance to lie herself and say it had all been a lie, that she was ready and waiting to serve her sentence in the mines the next morning. If he was a guard, he had done a good job convincing her otherwise but people fearing him made her suspicious, that he was at least not all he claimed to be. The fact that he never ate, what he did to that guard... it confused her, it made her worried and suspicious, yet she never said a word about it to anyone, she could not for she had to keep an ally, even if she was frightened of them.

The bed was not a bed exactly, not her definition, it was wood, and a flat mattress stuffed with straw, no blanket, just a bed in the corner, away from the others, her choice at the time. The worst part was there were less beds than prisoners, some would have to stand or sleep on the floor until the guards came for them, an alarming wake up call that shocked her out of sleep. There was no candlelight, so it was perfect for the man, should he wish to sneak in, if his plans were real, if he was sincere.

She finally fell asleep, having just rested her eyes in wait, in foolish hope. She turned onto her side, her neck throbbing in her sleep and yet she lay still, using her brown hair as a pillow to rest on, resting as best as she could. She dreamt of a hand, grey and cold, skin stretched thinly over it, veins deeply visible. It touched her, making her gasp as she awoke, finding a hand over her mouth, a barely visible finger to his lips as he beckoned for her to follow in her prison rags. Had it been real? Was that real? She was not certain, she was instead frightened, terrified but even death was better than the life she was living then.

She followed him outside, gulping as guards circled the entrance. She could barely see the man, his prison rags but his skin... it was grey, frighteningly so. She wanted to scream yet bit her tongue, hard enough to draw blood. She looked up at the guard, surprised as realised, they did not move, not even flinch at her presence. Confused, she looked at the man, yet did not dare ask as he led her up the stone steps, the journey she had imagined making four years later, when she was twenty-one, with permission from the guards, not by a man's side, if he was even a man and at seventeen. 

She could not believe her eyes, why were the guards so still? Had the man paid them? But with what? They had little money, food was currency, it did not make sense. She stepped towards one, waving her hand in front of his face, there was an annoying dripping sound, it just would not stop. She gasped with a little fright as she looked down at the floor, as she realised... the dripping... it was blood, it was the guard's blood, they were dead, and the man had killed them... he had taken revenge when she could not.

"The Pool of Worries has done its job," the man stated, bowing.

"Wait, who are you? Why did you do this?".

"You wanted revenge, I took care of it," the man explained.

"Your name?", she questioned.

"Bowen."

"What if I... what if I want to join you?", she asked quickly.

"I must know you are trustworthy before I allow you in on our secrets, for now you have seen too much. Go now, you have a whole life ahead of you to do anything you wish, whatever it is you wish," the man promised with another bow.